


Short End of the Stick

by DoveFanworks



Series: Borrower!Prom [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Borrower!AU, Gen, borrower!Prom, or at least sick!fic tropes, sick!fic, with a 'tiny' twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoveFanworks/pseuds/DoveFanworks
Summary: It was only then that he took notice of the way his charge’s hands were held, cupped close to his chest, curved over and around one another, keeping whatever it was he so clearly held out of sight. Even as he noticed all of that, Noctis was moving them, pulling them away from his chest, though not letting them stray far, and unfurling his fingers slowly.“Noct, what are you-”
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum, Prompto Argentum & Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Borrower!Prom [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1413532
Comments: 92
Kudos: 312
Collections: FFXV Pocket Edition





	Short End of the Stick

**Author's Note:**

> This is it chief, the largest update for anything I have ever posted  
> As proud as I am of that however, I do believe that, unfortunately, we are finally getting to the final parts of this series. I think I've only got about one or two more parts left for it. However! That's not to say that I will never write for it again! I have a ton of ideas for little drabbles and side stories within this universe so I expect I will still be revisiting it even when the main story series is completed;v;  
> Thank you all for your lovely messages and your patience during the ridiculous wait times between my updates, every single message means so much to me and all of them spur me to keep trying harder on every new part <3

There was never really a day where Ignis wasn’t busy, but since the bomb scare in the Prince’s apartment, his usual strict yet manageable workload had all but gone out the window. It was strange. In some ways, things were easier. Being closer to the Citadel made submitting a lot of his workload quicker, the paperwork certainly, and it was nice to not have to drive halfway across the city for a Crownsguard training session. There was nothing quite like efficiency, especially in a schedule as cluttered as his. Yet, all in all, it did little to make being stuck under glorified house arrest any more pleasant. He was hardly one to voice his discontent, he considered himself far too disciplined for that, but even he couldn’t help the pangs of irritation when dusk rolled in and he yearned for the familiar comforts of his own apartment, the excessive luxury of his rooms in the Citadel always just a bit too much for his tastes.

The dreary atmosphere looming over the place certainly didn’t help, not just from the lingering severity of the events a few days prior, but from the subsequent vile mood of their Prince. Noctis loathed the fact that he had been dragged back to the Citadel, and by the gods he apparently wasn’t about to let anyone forget it. Most of the maids and general staff were wisely giving him a wide berth, leaving him, Gladio and the King himself to address the foul-tempered teen. The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but it was no less unwelcome. He knew that Noct understood why things had to be this way, that it was all for his own safety, yet whether from pride or bruised ego or whatever complicated emotions were toying with him, Noct seemingly couldn’t shake his bitterness at the situation. And he had more than enough experience to know that it likely wouldn’t abate for a long while yet.

So the last thing Ignis expected was a text from said Prince late into the afternoon that simply read: ‘come up to my room now’. A single line of text it might have been, yet the tone of it left no room for argument.

Ignis allowed himself the small luxury of a tired sigh, rubbing lightly at his temples, even as he felt himself already changing directions, straying from the familiar path back to his own chambers and heading instead for the nearest elevator. The loss of his post-training shower was merely an annoyance, or so he told himself as it drew further away. As he walked, he let his mind stray back to the foul mood of his Prince. The weight of their encounter back in the library the day before last still hung heavy over his head, and he had barely exchanged two words with his charge since. He was hardly unused to the Prince’s moods, and he had expected it given Noctis had been forced right back into the one place he seemingly couldn’t stand to be, yet the spat in the library had been uncharacteristically venomous. That, combined with the explosion Gladio had been subject to, and had ranted at length to him about, meant he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something deeper beneath the anger. Yet he also knew his charge well, and so he knew that trying to force it out of him would yield nothing. He would have to wait for Noctis to bring it to him personally, though some subtle coaxing might have been in order, and he had already begun brainstorming small hints he could drop once this had passed and the Prince was speaking to him again.

With those thoughts and idle plans still pinging around the forefront of his mind, he almost jumped when the elevator chimed as it reached the floor housing the Royal chambers, before steadying himself and quickly exiting, pacing down the echoing halls towards the Prince’s bedroom. He sucked in a slow, calming breath upon reaching the large, ornate doors, a solid line of reasoning already plotted on the fair chance that his charge had come to pick up the ridiculous argument for returning to his apartment, and knocked on the door.

He barely got through the first tap before the door was yanked open. Not all the way, just enough for a familiar, though somewhat strained, face to peer out and swiftly look him up and down.

“Highness, I-”

“Get in quick and lock the door behind me,” Noctis said, fast and firm. Ignis stepped swiftly inside. Noctis was already moving, clipping his shoulder in his haste to slip back into the room, twisting away so quickly he couldn’t properly see his face to gauge his expression or mood.

“Are you in danger?” Ignis hissed urgently, twisting the ornate key beneath the glossy handle.

“No,” Noctis said, voice strained.

“Then what is wrong?” He probed, letting his shoulders drop from where they had tensed on instinct, finally turning to rake his gaze down his charge, searching for any sign of injury. His confusion only mounted when he found nothing, yet the tightness in his spine never abated, nor the anxiety in his eyes as he watched him from over his shoulder.

“I need your help.”

“You know I am always here for you, Highness,” Ignis said, brow furrowing.

Noctis’ eyes darted away, teeth appearing to worry his lip as hesitance danced in his eyes. Ignis felt his stomach sink even lower.

“Noctis,” he said slowly, gently, taking a careful step closer, “what has you so worried that you would be afraid to talk to me?”

Noctis didn’t answer immediately, but his dark, deep eyes shot to meet his, holding him hostage as he searched him harshly. Ignis forced himself silent, waiting, and after a handful of long, stuttering moments, he spoke again.

“I’m going to show you something, but first I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

Ignis felt his brow furrow further. He swallowed tightly, mind already flicking between a hundred possible scenarios, each more alarming than the last and all equally improbable. 

“Without knowing what it is, I cannot-”

“Just promise me, Ignis!” Noctis snapped, spinning more towards him, the hardness in his eyes melting into something close to panic, or perhaps a feverish worry, “I swear on my own father’s life it’s nothing that’ll put my life at risk.”

Ignis stilled, ignoring how his stomach twisted with anxious nerves he would never let show on his face, and searched his charge’s eyes for any indication to the opposite. Finally, he let his expression soften, and nodded once.

“Alright, Noct, I give you my word.”

Noctis released his breath, shoulders drooping. He turned the last of the way towards him, the tension still held in his eyes despite his agreement, lips still pulled back in a tight, worried grimace that set the hairs on the back of his neck up on end. After another moment of indecision, Noctis jerked his head, motioning him to come closer. He took the invite, keeping his steps measured and calm.

It was only then that he took notice of the way his charge’s hands were held, cupped close to his chest, curved over and around one another, keeping whatever it was he so clearly held out of sight. Even as he noticed all of that, Noctis was moving them, pulling them away from his chest, though not letting them stray far, and unfurling his fingers slowly.

“Noct, what are you-”

The words died on his tongue the moment Noctis tilted his hands just enough for him to make out the thing he was cradling like the most delicate flower. Like it was the most breakable thing in the world. It took him a moment longer than he would have liked, but his brain needed it to fully comprehend exactly what he was seeing: the tiny boy from the apartment. He was limp, borderline lifeless, in the Prince’s hands, the shaky rise and fall of his chest the only reassurance the fragile little creature was still alive at all.

“Noct-” he breathed, opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it, then opened it again.

“His name's Prompto,” Noct blurted, the edge of panic in his voice growing more prominent the more he spoke, “he- he’s my friend, he- Iggy he warned me about the bomb.”

Ignis felt the breath leave him, like Gladio had just slammed him into the mats in one of their spars. His gaze darted between his pale, tense charge, and the tiny, precious body he held as close to his chest as possible.

“Prompto,” he repeated faintly, leaning closer and adjusting his glasses so he could even begin to make sense of the boy’s miniscule frame, “I never thought he’d return after-”

“After the whole thing with the colander and shit? Yeah he really wasn’t a fan of tha-”

“No,” Ignis said slowly, eyes never leaving his frail body, hesitantly moving a hand closer, almost instinctively driven to offer physical comfort. Noct’s fingers curled around him further, jerking lightly away from him. When Ignis finally tore his eyes up there was something suspicious and distinctly protective in his dark gaze.

“What do you mean no?”

Ignis sighed.

“I did not tell you because I did not wish to get your hopes up-”

“Tell me what?” Noctis practically spat.

“There was-” Ignis sighed again, “-he spoke to me in the living room about a week following the incident-”

“What?” Noctis hissed.

“He didn’t reveal himself, I believe he was hiding in the ceiling lamp, or the roof, but he asked me why I had let him go, I tried to convince him to come and talk to me again, and he refused.” 

Ignis swallowed tightly at the memory, guilt trickling down his neck at the mere notion of the sheer terror they must have put the poor boy through.

“He disappeared again after that and I didn’t hear from him again, I had no other option than to assume he was gone for good this time.”

“He-” Noctis began, licking his lips and glancing downwards worriedly, “he never mentioned it, but he- he’s really scared of you and Gladio, I promised I wouldn’t tell either of you about him to get him to come with me here.”

Ignis brow furrowed deeper and he opened his mouth, whether to comfort the Prince or lightly admonish him for going against his word he wasn’t even certain. His mind felt like it was buzzing, flicking wildly between all the trains of thought their unexpected guest had sparked.

“But then he got sick,” Noct murmured, ever so carefully cradling his precious cargo closer to his chest, “really sick, he barely ate or drank anything all through yesterday and today and- and I don’t know what else to do Iggy! He’s only getting worse, he can barely speak, all he does is sleep and I- I don’t know what to do! I don’t-”

“Noctis- Noct,” Ignis said firmly, grasping his shoulder tight enough to force his panicked eyes up to meet his own, “calm down, you have done the right thing in asking me for help, it’s what I’m here for.”

He let his eyes fall to settle softly on what small glimpses he could catch of the tiny, delicate form curled in his charge’s hands, the miniscule shivers lancing through him making his gut clench with worry.

“I will examine him and see if I can pinpoint exactly what is ailing him, then we will see what we can do to help him,” Ignis said slowly, returning his eyes to Noct’s own searching ones, “I will do everything I can for him, Noct.”

Noctis nodded shakily, far paler than usual, but didn’t budge an inch. Ignis cleared his throat softly.

“Noctis,” he began, “I will need you to give him to me so that I can properly look at him.”

Noctis jerked like he’d been pinched and Ignis could already see the refusal poised to leap from his tongue. But then, to his surprise, he clamped his mouth closed, cast one last worried glance downwards, and gave a single, slow nod. 

“Ok, ok um, put your hands out and I’ll- I’ll lower him into them.”

“Alright,” Ignis replied, barely above a whisper as he moved to gently cup them before him, “just- be very gentle, Noct.”

Noctis shot him a look, slightly irritated but mostly just haggard with worry, and with one final moment of hesitance, he began to transfer the fragile little body over to him. As he delicately tilted his hands and uncurled his fingers from around the tiny boy, the first thing Ignis became keenly aware of was how surprisingly heavy Prompto was. Not heavy in the sense that it was even vaguely a strain to hold him, but cradling that warm weight in his palms, feeling the slight give of firm flesh and blood, it all suddenly became real. 

He was really holding this tiny little being in his hands right now…

_ Gods above. _

Without the no doubt anchoring touch of the little body in his hands, Noctis looked lost. His empty hands hovered before his chest as though confused and his worried gaze never once strayed from the tiny blonde now delicately cradled in his own.

Ignis cleared his throat, straining hard not to focus just yet on the overly warm,  _ living _ thing he now held entirely. He had to give Noctis a purpose, something to help make him feel as though he were actively helping his little friend, even if Ignis truly had no idea where to even begin yet.

“There should be a first-aid kit in the cabinet under the bathroom sink, would you please go and get it? There may be something in there we can use to help him.”

Noctis blinked and a little of the haze in his eyes cleared.

“Oh, y-yeah, right, I- I can- you’ll be careful with him though, right?”

“I will not even begin to examine him until you return,” Ignis said gently, “you have my word Noct, more than anything I have ever promised you, I will take the utmost care with him.”

Noctis nodded faintly. “Ok, right um, I’ll get the thing-”

With one final, fleeting glance at his shivering friend, he turned and all but sprinted for the bathroom, clearly not wanting to waste time. As soon as he disappeared through the door, Ignis released a sharp, silent breath, shoulders slumping like a taught set of strings had just been cut and finally, he let his gaze slowly fall downwards.

Ignis could do nothing but stare at the perfect little body cradled in his hands, lips parting in awe as he fervently took in every detail he could. He watched transfixed as the boy’s tiny chest rose and fell, birdlike, with every short, pained breath, tiny hands flexing against his own, perfect little fingers curling into fists as another shudder rattled throughout his body. He knew there wasn’t really the time for this, he needed to examine him properly, try and work out exactly what was ailing the poor thing, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away. 

He was astonishing. A perfect miniature of a human, identical in every way.

Prompto’s tiny eyelids fluttered, so small he almost didn’t see them, his forehead scrunching with pain, before he gave a couple of dry, rasping coughs. He rolled clumsily on to his other side and Ignis didn’t dare move, watching with wide eyes as he settled again, trying to snuggle further against the warmth of his skin like a kitten seeking the comfort of its mother. He huffed in amazement when he gave a soft whine and attempted to shove his face into the crook between his thumb and his palm. Carefully, Ignis curled his fingers up around him, drawing him as close to his chest as he could, trying to share as much of his body heat as possible. It wasn’t that cold in Noct’s chambers, but he supposed to someone so small it might well have been. Prompto made the tiniest, pained whimpering sound, and he felt his heart all but break.

“Shh, hush little one,” Ignis whispered, letting soft comforts fall from his lips in a steady stream as he ran the side of one thumb ever so delicately down the tiny boy’s spine, slowly drifting towards the couch.

“It’s alright, you’re going to be alright, Prompto, I promise we’ll look after you,” he soothed, not even sure who he was reassuring. Prompto curled even more into himself, shivers racking his fragile frame and, all at once, he was struck with the overwhelming terror of holding such a breakable thing, the sheer weight of the tiny yet monumental life he now cradled in his hands crashing over him like a tidal wave. It almost felt wrong, like it was a sin for him to even touch something so precious. The warmth of Prompto’s feverish body burned against his skin like a live ember, but he found his focus inexorably drawn to the fluttering of the miniature heart beneath it, flickering within the delicate cage of his chest like the clumsy beats of a butterfly’s wings. 

He exhaled softly, willing his hands to remain steady as he shifted him gently, slowly moving to take a seat on the cushions. Prompto snuffled at the odd motions, but didn’t wake. Ignis dipped his head, idly noting the dull thumps in the bathroom as Noct searched for the first aid kit. He dropped his voice to the barest whisper, cradling the tiny body closer as he all but curled over him, and breathed out the words that had been swirling in his head since Noct had first revealed him.

“Thank you, thank you for saving him.”

Prompto stirred in his fitful slumber. “N’ct?” he slurred, barely loud enough to hear, before his little head slumped again and he stilled once more. Ignis released another soft, awed breath. As though summoned by his call, Noct reappeared from within the bathroom, first aid kit clutched tightly to his chest, and all but warped back to his side.

“Is he ok? He didn’t wake up did he?” He said in a rush, dumping the kit on the top of the couch and leaning down to check on his tiny friend. 

“No,” Ignis answered gently, “he stirred for a moment but he didn’t wake entirely, from what I can tell however, this illness has taken quite the toll on him.”

Noctis pulled back, worry clear in his eyes when he looked up to meet them. “You can help him though right? Please Iggy you’ve gotta have something that’ll help him, he’s only been getting worse and I-”

“Calm down Noct,” Ignis said firmly, relieved when he actually listened, before sighing as the sheer scope of just how much he  _ didn’t _ know about Prompto’s biology struck him. He had no idea if attempting to give him medication would even help, nor how much of a dose he could administer. He repressed a shudder at the thought of accidentally overdosing him.

“I don’t think- I don’t think I can give him any medicine-”

“What?” Noct barked, shoulders arching angrily, “then how the hell are we-”

“He’s too small Noct,” Ignis cut him off, “medicine made for a human could kill him, not to mention that I wouldn’t even know the correct dosage size, I have no idea the effects it could have on a person this tiny.”

“Then what the hell can we do?! Ignis I can’t just- I can’t just watch him-”

They both froze when Prompto stirred with a soft groan, wriggling weakly in Ignis’ hands and blindly groping for something. Noting the shivers racking his bony little shoulders, Ignis quickly realised what he was searching for. Ever so delicately, he shimmied his tiny body completely into one hand, feeling Noct’s stare heavy on him as he moved to pull the clean, folded handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and carefully draped it over him. Prompto immediately curled a hand around it, fisting the material and pulling it tight to his chest, curling up beneath the makeshift blanket and giving a rough cough before his shuddery little breaths leveled out and he was dead to the world once again. 

“Tell me exactly what his symptoms have been,” Ignis murmured once he was certain he had dropped back to sleep, “the cough, loss of appetite and exhaustion I assume has been constant?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said faintly, “the cough only really started getting bad last night, before that he was mostly just saying he had a headache, that his muscles ached and that he was more tired than usual, we both just thought it was all the stress of the bomb and, y’know, him revealing himself to me and all.”

“I can only imagine,” Ignis agreed softly. ‘Someone that helped to trap him not even two weeks ago at that,’ he couldn’t help mentally adding with a barely there grimace. It must have taken a whole hell of a lot of guts to choose to stay and warn someone that by all means should have been considered the enemy, without even taking into account that that someone was over one hundred times his size. He almost wanted to put him down, feeling so intensely wrong to be holding someone’s life quite literally in his hand. One wrong flex or errant twitch of his fingers could terribly hurt Prompto, and the thought troubled him even more than the looming illness did. But more than that, it just felt so… wrong to be touching him so, at least without permission. Noctis had said they were friends so he could only assume, or hope, that he didn’t mind his touch, but what did Prompto have to go off of with him? A few failed conversations and the memory of being trapped beneath a damn colander of all things. He had no doubt that, if Prompto were to wake up lucid enough to recognise who was holding him, he would very likely panic and gods he never wanted to be the source of that much fear for someone so innocent ever again.

Ignis shook himself from that train of thought, forcing himself to refocus. The point was Prompto wasn’t lucid right now, his body was being burned from the inside out by what felt like a positively wicked fever, and if he didn’t get aid soon he could very likely die. He soothed the anxious nausea of whether this was even ethical with the promise of a proper apology once Prompto was feeling better. 

“It sounds and looks like some form of the flu, a particularly nasty strain of it, but it should run its course and pass on its own, so long as he is kept warm, dry and eats and drinks regularly,” Ignis murmured, delicately tilting the hand cradling him to examine the fevered flush painting his neck and face.  _ His cheeks were smattered with tiny freckles _ .

‘And we can only hope that it does not develop into an infection or anything worse,’ Ignis silently tacked on, not daring to voice those fears in front of Noctis.

“Then that’s good! Right?” Noctis said. Ignis knew he would latch on to any hope he gave.

“Well, it would definitely be a start,” Ignis said gently, keeping his worries essentially tabled for now, “although exactly how we would go about getting food and water into him when he isn’t fully lucid right now, I’ve yet to figure out.”

“When he wakes up next we can try it, he’ll listen to me, we just need to get him when he’s more awake.”

“It is worth a shot,” Ignis agreed, delicately tucking the handkerchief more against Prompto’s back, feeling his little body curl up just a fraction tighter at his touch. He frowned a little at that, worry pounding around the walls of his chest. He hated to think it was an instinctive fear response towards him, yet when he again took into account just how out of it he seemed he pushed the worry aside, at least for now. 

“Alright,” he said, more to himself than anything, before turning to Noctis, “the first thing we should do is get him comfortable, does he have somewhere he’s been using as a bed that we can get him properly settled in?”

“Uh, yeah,” Noct said, shooting him an incensed look at the mere notion that he wouldn’t provide a bed for his little friend, “I gave him a pillow and an old bandana for a blanket, which he really liked, as in I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been given a gift in his life levels of liked, and we-”

Ignis listened in rapt attention as Noctis began to recount the events since the bomb threat, all of the things Prompto had shared with him about his quiet, lonely life in the walls, the close encounters that explained so much of Noct’s moods. Sudden changes in food preferences (to those of someone who never really got to choose what they ate) and curtains left wide open (for someone who had only ever slept in pitch darkness). It all made so much sense yet the truth behind it only made him share the worry and sadness he could see so clearly simmering within Noctis now.

‘Perhaps-,’ he thought, quietly to himself, gaze drifting to settle softly back upon the tiny mop of blonde hair peeking out from the bundle of fabric, appearing like a smear of gold paint amongst the pristine white.

‘Perhaps there is time yet to fix our mistakes.’

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When he woke again it felt like he hadn’t. 

“N’ct?” He called. The heartbeat in his ears stuttered, just for a moment. It was a big heartbeat, really big. Had to be Noct.  _ Right? _

“Not quite,” a strange, lilting voice replied, “he will be back soon.”

_ Who is it? _ Prompto was idly sure that he recognised that voice, but his sluggish mind refused to give him the name or face it attached to. 

“Prompto, can you drink some of this water for me?”

Prompto grimaced, wrinkling his nose at the idea. He wasn’t thirsty. His throat was drier than dirt.

“Don’ wan’ any,” he mumbled, twisting his head to try and hide his face, the light making his head spin even with his eyes screwed shut.

“I know,” the voice-  _ Noct? _ -said gently, “but it will make you feel better, just a little bit?”

He shook his head, or at least he made the attempt. He wasn’t really sure if he succeeded.

“Come now, little one-”  _ why did that make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end? _ “-you need to drink, your body needs the water… Noct is very worried for you.”

_ Noct was worried? For him? _

Oh.

“Alrigh’,” Prompto mumbled. _ Noct was worried about him _ . He did try to push himself up, truly he did, but his arms felt like two toothpicks trying to hold up a brick, and he quickly gave in to slump back into the softness of the blankets.

“Sorry,” he slurred, blinking blearily at the large shape looming over him, before just letting his eyes fall closed altogether, the light giving him a headache, “can I- can I sleep first?”

Whoever was leaning over him-  _ Noct? No. _ -didn’t answer right away, before the soft breeze of a giant, shaky sigh washed over him.

“Yes, Prompto, of course you can- when you wake up then, little one.”

He grunted, regretting it when it made him cough, a harsh shudder curling its way down his spine. “Please don’ leave me-” the words croaked from his throat like air from a leaky pipe.

_ I miss mum and dad _ .

“I’m not going anywhere,” the voice soothed, “it’s alright, you can go back to sleep darling, you won’t be alone when you wake again.”

_ Darling?  _ Prompto nodded, or at least he thought he had.  _ He’s way too nice to me _ .

“K,” he mumbled, already muddled thoughts growing far too fuzzy again, he could feel it all fading away again, “don’ let any other beans take me away…”

The voice didn’t reply for a long moment but that big heartbeat was still there, steady and strong, so Prompto didn’t worry that he had left.  _ Please don’t leave _ .

“No one is going to take you away, Prompto, go back to sleep, you need to rest as much as you can.”

Prompto mumbled something that might have been an affirmative, plunging headfirst back into the blissful nothingness of sleep. Glimmering beneath the darkness, like the shimmer and flash of fish beneath murky water, he dreamed of the sunlit greens of an old overgrown garden and the stuttering beats of sparrow wings.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


For the first time in a long time, Ignis felt lost.

He had been trained in just about everything from a young age. Etiquette, combat, magic and elemancy, advanced strategy, the list went on. It was so rare that he found himself out of his depth that, when he did now, he found himself gripped by a visceral panic. There was no class for this, no lesson or book he could find the answers in. But, as was normally the case, once the first wave of anxiety had run its course and passed clean through him, much of the rest of his training stepped up to help him puzzle the problem out.

He couldn’t exactly open a book and read about Borrowers, so he turned to the next best thing he could think of: around ten different tabs open on his laptop on the care and rearing of small animals. He would have been lying if he had said it didn’t feel mildly insensitive to even compare Prompto in passing to an animal, but he was primarily after techniques he could use to help nurse him back to health, how much food and water he could attempt to give him and how frequently and so on. Though, according to Noct, Prompto seemed to eat about as regularly as a normal-sized human if left to his own devices, though the bitterly muttered addition that it was clear he wasn’t used to getting anywhere near enough food had him gritting his teeth. 

How could a boy so young already be all alone? Or at least, it certainly seemed that way. When he queried Noctis about it he had no answers for him, simply stating that they hadn’t really talked about their families. It was a worrying tangent to go down, and he tried his best not to jump to conclusions, yet an uneasiness lingered all the same.

Ignis sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at his eyes. He had too much information swirling about in his head, yet at the same time too little, and it made for a rather frustrating combo. Too many unanswered questions that ate at the back of his mind, and the key to answering them still had not stirred enough to even attempt a decent conversation. As his mind wandered back to the source of all his trains of thought, he felt his gaze follow, craning his head to glance over the back of the couch, back to Noct’s bed where the bundle of makeshift blankets hid the slumbering Borrower from view. The bed was so hilariously oversized compared to it, the sharp white of the handkerchief he had donated a tiny raft in a sea of inky black sheets.

He worried his lip, wondering if he was getting a little too paranoid with his incessant urges to check on the miniature boy, before firmly resolving it to merely be an eagerness for whether he would begin to show signs of waking soon. After all, he couldn’t ask any questions or even attempt to meaningfully help him until he did. Slipping his laptop aside, he smoothly stood and paced around towards the bed, keeping his footsteps light in a bid to not disturb him, given how sensitive to vibration and sound Borrowers apparently were (fascinating).

“Still asleep, darling?” Ignis murmured as he perched himself carefully on the edge of the bed, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer, “all this rest is certainly a good start, but we do need you to wake up soon so we can get some food and water into you.” Delicately, he tugged at the edge of the bandana Noct had been quick to add to the handkerchief Prompto was still swaddled in, a tiny smile curling his lips at the memory of how carefully the Prince had tucked the fabric around him. It swiftly fell away when his fingertip accidentally brushed soft, cold flesh, the weight of stone slamming full force into the pit of his gut. 

_ No _ .  _ Oh gods please no _ .

He fumbled with the rest of the blankets with feverish fingers, peeling them back to reveal the cool, still body beneath, barely moved from when he had last checked on him. He traced the tip of his pointer finger ever so gently against a tiny shoulder, his best attempt at a nudge. Prompto didn’t so much as twitch. Ignis pulled away, dragging a hand down his face, covering his mouth to smother the gasp of horror clawing at the seam of his lips. His heart hammered against his breast, yet it felt somehow dim, like it was smothered behind a wall of liquid or gel, lost under the surface. He couldn’t make a sound, didn’t have the air for it, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the still,  _ lifeless little _ -

Prompto whined, squirming on to his other side clumsily, tiny hands shakily groping for his missing blankets as noticeable shivers raced down his arms. Ignis felt every last scrap of tightly held breath flee his lungs. “Oh gods little one,” he breathed, lifting his glasses to rub firmly at his eyes, dutifully ignoring how his fingers came away just the tiniest bit moist, “you scared me half to death.”

He delicately shifted his hand to press the pad of his thumb to the bare skin of Prompto’s collar, where his tiny jacket opened, then to his tiny brow, hissing at how chilled and clammy he felt. “Oh, my dear, you’re absolutely frigid-” he began to carefully wriggle his fingers beneath him, scooping both Borrower and blankets up in his hands- “we need to get you warmed up again.”

He drew him up to his chest, careful not to jostle him, the already deep set of his brow somehow dipping even lower as he brought him closer, finally noting the constant tremble across his skin, too small for him to notice before. The barely there chatter of tiny teeth, how tightly his little body was coiled beneath the blankets swallowing up his frame, how he nestled weakly into the warmth of his palms, shuffling as much of himself against his skin as he could on raw instinct.

“Oh darling,” Ignis murmured, sweet nothings dripping from his lips as he returned to the couch, sitting smoothly and cradling his hands close to himself once again. He waited, watching, as slowly the shudders began to lessen, the notch in Prompto’s tiny brow softening and his clattering jaw stilling, the tautness in his spine ebbing as he seemed to settle further into sleep. Finally, Ignis let his shoulders droop from the tense line he had drawn them into, his worst fears abated, at least for the moment.

“You can’t regulate your temperature properly like this, can you?” he breathed, knowing there would be no answer, already knowing he had it, guilt clawing at him for not noticing sooner. A little longer and he might have truly found him… No, he couldn’t dwell on that, not now. Prompto was ok, but he needed his full attention, now more than ever. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, turning down dark paths against his will, his fingers curling just a little more around the fragile being. Because he couldn’t escape that one, fleeting, terrible question no matter how hard he tried to chase distraction… 

_ What if he didn’t get better? _

Astrals, he didn’t want to think of such an awful possibility, yet was it not a part of his job to be prepared for any eventuality? So he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting, in the dragging hours when the room was quiet and Prompto slept still as stone, the tiny but steady wheeze of his breaths melding with the unsteady tapping of his keyboard as he strained to focus on his work.

What would they do if the worst came to be? Gods, what would they do with what remained? Would they be forced to dispose of him? Bury his tiny body in a shoebox somewhere like a damn animal? And Noct… Noct would be distraught. No, worse than that. If he lost this little friend he clearly already held so dear, Ignis worried he would return to the cold, emotionless boy he had been so long ago, a state he had never completely recovered from.

He always forced his mind to other things when he reached that point. There was only one answer after all. He couldn’t let that happen.  _ Wouldn’t _ let that happen. Not even for Noctis’ sake either, he wouldn’t fail Prompto, this kind little soul that had saved his Prince’s life, even after everything they had put him through. Quietly, clutching Prompto close to him, he resolved to have Noctis dig up one of his old heat packs later, they couldn’t well go on carrying him all the time after all, and began to rack his brain for ideas on how he could possibly get some food and water into the tiny boy. Prompto was never going to wake lucid enough to eat under his own power, not at the rate they were going, he would waste away before their eyes if Ignis couldn’t get some fuel into his system soon. The few days he hadn’t eaten or drank were already immensely worrying.

Beyond the towering windows, the sky was painted in pinks and purples and oranges, the sun rapidly dipping down towards the horizon. Soon, the night would roll in, and he idly hoped that Prompto would simply sleep through all of it, once they had ensured he had a steady heat source to keep his temperature stable of course. With a gentle sigh, Ignis slumped more against the back of the couch, carefully nestling the hand still cradling the slumbering Borrower in his lap, tugging his laptop closer and beginning his research all over again. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When he woke again he wasn’t alone.

“Prom?”

_ Noct? _

“Prom, buddy, you need to get up.”

_ But why? _

“You need to have something to eat-”

_ He was so tired. _

“You need to drink something-”

_ In a bit Noct, I promise _ .

“Prom? Hey, hey! Don’t go back to-”

_ Just lemme sleep a bit longer. _

“...he couldn’t stay awake again.”

“He is very ill, Noct, and I fear the dehydration and hunger have already weakened him further, he will undoubtedly decline further if neither are remedied soon… but I think I may have an idea. Where did you put that first-aid kit?”

“On the desk… why?”

“Just stay with him for now, keep him warm, let me look at what we have and see if it’s even possible.”

“I- ok- ok Specs just- just hurry alright?”

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Ignis waited until Noctis had been called away for yet another meeting with his father to put his plan into action. Partly so he didn’t have the Prince stalking around him like a half-starved voretooth but mostly so that if, gods forbid, something went wrong he could attempt to right it without Noct yelling and panicking in his ear.

He didn’t believe there would be too much risk however… sort of. 

There was always a risk with anything really, but when he was dealing with something so small, and his normally steady, reliable hands felt suddenly too giant and clumsy for basic tasks, a tiny, niggling voice whispered that perhaps the risk was too great. He turned his head to his side, away from the softly wheezing bundle still slumped across his palm, to the first-aid kit with its contents strewn about the top of the desk. To the eyedropper he had strategically placed beside a small glass of fresh water. 

When the idea had struck him he had been hopeful, but now, with all his preparations made, he wasn’t so sure. Even the small, glass tool, not even as long as his thumb looked way too oversized for the Borrower. Then there was the whole risk of Prompto choking if he even got as far as getting the liquid past his lips. Ignis sighed harshly, scrubbing his free hand through his hair in a rare show of frustration, but it was hardly as if anyone else was here to judge him for it. No one conscious enough to anyway.

He let his hand fall to rest just above his brow, massaging his temples and squeezing his eyes shut as his mind jumped back and forth between a myriad of pros and cons, before finally, he sucked in a new breath, and reached for the eyedropper. Risky or not, Prompto had to get some water into his body. He knew the signs of dehydration well, and the tiny boy was already well down the path, if he put off taking action any longer he would only deteriorate further, and Ignis wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Mind made up, he placed the tip of the dropper into the glass and, with a press of his fingers, filled it with water.

“Alright Prompto,” he breathed, lifting the hand holding him from the surface of the desk, “I need you to wake up for me now.” Prompto did little more than mumble tiredly and twist his face away into the fabric. Ignis chuckled softly, if only to try and lessen the tension coiling like a serpent within his own chest.

“I know, I know, we all must be annoying you by now,” he huffed, carefully manipulating him so that his upper body was propped up against the heel of his palm, “all us loud humans always waking you up, but I really need you to drink some of this now.” Prompto grunted, broke off in a hacking cough, and began to resettle as it faded, but didn’t attempt to wriggle his way further into a reclining position. Surmising that he wouldn’t get a much better opportunity than this, as long as he took it slow and testing, he moved the tip of the dropper into position. 

“Alright, please darling,” Ignis murmured, so quietly it was barely a breath between himself and the shivering little body he cradled so carefully to his chest, “please, just take a little-”

Breath held almost painfully, he began to squeeze the rubber tip of the eyedropper. Prompto gave a choked squeak as the cool water began to leak against his lips, brow furrowing as it spilled down his chin, soaking into the crisp white of the handkerchief.

“No, no, no, please Prompto,” Ignis pleaded, “please, you need to drink this.”

One tiny hand flailed clumsily against the glass pressed to his lips, fingers curling around it as he weakly tried to push it away. Then, all at once, the fight bled from him, replaced with a confused set in his brows, and he ceased his scrabbling against the end of the eyedropper, just pressing his palm flat against it. And at last, his little throat bobbed as he swallowed. 

Ignis felt every muscle in his body slump with relief. “Thank the gods,” he breathed, quickly refocusing and squeezing the rubber cap again, letting him slowly take mouthfuls of the water until, finally, Prompto turned his head away, grimacing when another fat drop leaked out and rolled down his neck. 

“Sorry little one,” Ignis murmured, pulling the eyedropper away and delicately dabbing up the wetness with a spare corner of the handkerchief. He hesitated, wondering if he should try to give him a little more. If Noct’s word about how long he had gone without having eaten or drunk was true then there was no doubt in his mind that he was dehydrated. Yet when he glanced back down at the Borrower, already returning to his fitful slumber, and then back to the meager amount of liquid that had been taken from the dropper, he realised with a start that that may well have been just about as much as his tiny stomach could handle. The thought of accidentally harming him with his overzealous need to feed and care for those he was close to made his own gut lurch sickeningly, decidedly setting the dropper back down beside the glass.

He dutifully ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head that reminded him, he wasn’t close to Prompto, he barely knew anything past his name and what Noctis had told him of the last couple of days. If nothing else, he certainly knew what his fears were: almost always humans, alongside virtually everything else in the world. What a terrifying life it must have been to be so small, and yet, from the way Noctis had retold what the tiny boy had said, Prompto seemed to take no small amount of pride in his life as a Borrower. Not to say that Ignis disagreed with him liking and even enjoying what he did, but he supposed when he thought about it, if it was himself that came to realise how tiny he truly was, how utterly unimportant he was to the gigantic world around him… well, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But Prompto didn’t seem caught up by the knowledge of how tiny he was at all. In fact, if Noct’s words were anything to go off of, he approached the challenge of practically every aspect of his life with a cheery disposition and a quiet acceptance that it was merely how things were, and that he was damn well going to make the best of it. Even if simple tasks like getting off of a bed required him to physically rappel his way down to the ground.

Ignis didn’t have any other word for it, he was in  _ awe  _ of the little Borrower.

Now he could only hope that, when Prompto finally did wake properly, he would listen to him. He didn’t expect his forgiveness for all they had done to him, gods knew he truly didn’t even believe that he deserved it, but perhaps, in time, he could forge the start of something beyond fear, as Noctis had.

It was a small, somewhat stupid hope, yet he clung to it, resent for his own hand in making this mess only spurring his drive to care, to right what he had helped wrong. Prompto snuffled softly in his hand, reminding Ignis that he was still cradling him close, like he feared he would decline again the moment he lost contact with him, and broke from his swirling thoughts. He couldn’t help a small smile at the sight of him, even as he watched Prompto uncurled, stretching along the curve of his palm, before grasping the edge of the handkerchief (he made a mental note to swap that for a clean one soon), gave a bone-cracking yawn, and settled once more.

Ignis chuckled, still not quite sure whether to believe that any of this was real, before rising from his seat, striding slowly back towards Noct’s bed. “Don’t settle just yet, little one, let’s get you back into bed first.”

Prompto mumbled something in response, too small to make out and mushed against his hand. Beneath the soft folds of the handkerchief, he could feel the faint, steady flutter of that tiny heart, still pounding away in that little chest of his. And that was more than enough to keep him going, for now. Though he knew they were far from out of the woods yet, a lightness had risen to fill his chest, like clouds billowing up from the sea. Ignis quickly moved to flick on the small heater Noctis had dug up for him, alongside a small hoard of heat packs (Ignis had forgone trying to explain that Prompto absolutely did not need that many), resettling the blonde atop what was now without a doubt  _ his  _ pillow. Perhaps it was just his imagination, or foolish wishful thinking, but he almost looked better already, a fresh hue of pink to his cheeks that made his tiny freckles darken.

It may have only been a small improvement, it may not have truly even been there, but it was something regardless, and it gave him fresh hope.

Noctis would return soon, and he could take over keeping an eye on Prompto for a while, with the rapid and terrifying fluctuations in his temperature it was a necessity, yet far too restrictive on his tight schedule now that he was here on his own. He may just have had a solution to take some of the strain off of himself and Noct, but he would have to discuss it (or more likely argue it) with his charge when he returned. In the meantime, he pulled his slowly filling recipe book from the side pocket of his satchel, settled carefully alongside Prompto’s pillow, flicked open to a page for chickatrice broth and began to make a list of the ingredients he was going to need.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When he woke again the world felt just a bit better. 

The ache in his muscles a bit less painful, the sandpaper dryness in his throat a bit less choking, the hole in his stomach a bit less gaping.

“Fuck… so this is the reason you’ve been such an asshole lately.”

_ A new voice? Maybe? _ Deep and thunderous in a way it-  _ they? _ -hadn’t been before. He idly got the impression he should be cowering, but the urge was gone almost as soon as it had flitted through his head.

“He didn’t want to be found by anyone else, and you were snooping around my room!”

_ Different voice? _

“Gentlemen!”

_ Different _ ,  _ different voice.  _

“Highness, we have to go now or we’ll be late, here, take him- very gentle now-”

A wave of nausea swept up his spine and through his skull as he was lightly jostled, not sure if the soft groan he heard was in his mind or was truly leaving his lips as he felt that strange, warm pressure pushing gently against him. 

_ Was Noct leaving him again? _

Some distant, muffled part of his mind recoiled, squeaking fearfully at him, but just as quickly the pressure pulled away and he settled again into the warmth that cradled him. It was far better than the stinging bite of the cold.

“Shit Igs, he’s fucking tiny.”

_ Who’s tiny? _

“Yes-“

_ Maybe you’re just too big. _

“Yeah so you’d better be damn well gentle with him.”

“Relax Princess, I’ve got him.”

_ Princess? Prince? He knew a Prince… maybe? _

“I’ve been giving him liquids every couple of hours, just a drop, I don’t think his stomach can take much more than that-”

“Holy shit-”

“-give him water again in around an hour, he will let you know when he’s had enough, and then the next hour give him some of the soup in that thermos, it should still be fairly warm so make sure it’s not too hot, the best we can do for him now is to keep his strength up.”

_ Mum used to make soup a lot. _

“Geez… anything else?”

“Keep him warm, he cools terrifyingly quickly, I’ve found laying him on my chest to be the best solution if you don’t plan on moving much but there is a heat pack on the couch and a portable heater by the bed if you’d prefer, make sure the heater isn’t directly on him though.”

_ He kinda liked it when Noct let him lay on his chest. He was really warm. And the sound of his heart was so big. _

“Right…”

_ It made his head pound when he was close. He still liked it though. _

“And do try to keep from raising your voice, he doesn’t respond well to aggression, and the last thing his body needs right now is more stress, so play nice while we’re gone.”

_ Play what? _

“You got it boss.”

“We’ll be back in a couple of hours, but my phone will be on me, so if anything happens let me-”

Prompto mumbled tiredly, curling up tighter in a bid to block out the deep rumbling around him. He didn’t want to think anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

So he did.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


To say Gladio had been blindsided by what Ignis had called him to Noct’s chambers to show him was an understatement. 

The last thing he had expected when he had walked right on in, not really feeling the need nor the patience to knock, was to be met with a sharp look of warning and a finger to the lips. At the time he had raised his hands in surrender, irritated thoughts of the Advisor wanting to talk with him about his part in Noct’s bad mood already turning his expression foul.

Then Ignis had beckoned him closer to reveal the little,  _ breathing  _ bundle carefully cradled in his other hand and a lot of shit had suddenly made sense.

He couldn’t say he knew much about tiny people, but he knew enough from the regular sized kind to see that the kid was sick.  _ Really _ sick. He spent most of the time sleeping and, on the few occasions so far he had seen him wake, he was so delirious he barely seemed able to tell which way was up. His tiny body burned with fever, skin like a live coal every time his fingers brushed him, yet the memory of the haunted look in Ignis’ eyes when he had recounted how he had found him the day before, cold and still and far too close to  _ lifeless _ , kept him from untucking him too much from his nest of makeshift blankets. The sweat glistening on what parts of his face were visible, matting his bright mop of hair against his scalp, was damn well testing his will though. Every part of him was saying the kid had to be overheating, yet every time he leant across the bed covers to check on him, he found shivers still racking the boy’s tiny body, and so his brain spiraled in the same inane circle as the hour ticked by. 

Ignis might have said something about the temperature fluctuations probably being tied to his size, his body wasn’t as large as a normal humans so, obviously, he lost heat a lot faster. He supposed that made sense. He wasn’t exactly a leading expert on tiny people- Borrowers, Noctis had insisted.  _ A Borrower _ . Gods that sounded dumb, like something his nanny would have read him when he was a kid, but more than that it wasn’t even damn well accurate. It wasn’t like they were “borrowing” when they took food right from their pantries, and it sure as hell seemed like they weren’t returning the rest of the stuff they “borrowed”. On any other day of the week he’d have called that stealing.

Gladio huffed, scratching at the shaved side of his scalp and letting his eyes fall closed. He had let his mind wander and lost his place in his book… again. But damn if it wasn’t hard to focus with the steady stream of rasping breaths and the occasional cough constantly tugging his attention down to his left.

Prompto hadn’t moved at all since Noct and Iggy had left for their council meeting. It was unavoidable. Usually Noctis found some way to worm his way out of them, but given this one was a very lengthy discussion on the current details and ramifications of the bomb threat investigation, and likely what changes would need to be made to ensure that no one ever got that close to harming the Prince again, he kind of had to be there. It would be a major step forward no doubt, but it would also likely see a lot of new constraints set upon Noctis and the small freedom he had found in his apartment, and he already knew that wasn’t going to be pretty. Regardless, as soon as the doors had closed behind them (with a parting glare of warning from Prince Charmless) he had carefully placed Prompto right back on the pillow that had been royally decreed his. He didn’t really like the thought of touching him. After all, he still had yet to get the memory of that terrified, rabbit-quick heartbeat out from under the skin of his palms, like the echoes of it were permanently lodged inside of his bones.

A soft snuffle drew him away from that quickly building guilt-fest, gaze turning again to the bundled up Borrower beside him. Prompto gave a couple of harsh coughs, sniffling miserably, and finally moved, flopping on to his other side so that he was presumably facing him, it was hard to tell under all that fabric, and fell silent once more.

Gladio sighed again, finally setting aside his book altogether. 

Ever since he had settled the kid back atop his pillow that weird, niggling itch hadn’t left his fingers, like ants were skittering across his skin, and though he knew without a doubt what the cause was, he couldn’t for the life of him work out what it meant. Couldn’t decide whether his hands itched to carefully hold the tiny boy again, like a damn child fascinated by a mouse, or whether that tingling feeling was a response of revulsion, disgust at himself for even daring to touch someone who so wholy couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Couldn’t even give up the words to consent right now. But mostly, the weird reaction led him right back to the events in the apartment a couple of weeks ago, and exactly how he must have looked to someone barely five inches tall.  _ Like a monster _ .

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, guilt coiling heavy in his stomach and settling there as he scrubbed his hands down his face, rubbing at his eyes like it would make the itch of frustration go away.

“Shit wha’?”

Gladio just about jumped out of his skin.

His head snapped back downwards to find that, aside from rolling over, Prompto still hadn’t moved, all but the bright flash of his blonde hair hidden beneath the tangled mess of handkerchiefs.  _ These were all Iggy’s…  _ But even as he watched, the fabric shifted again, the little form curled up beneath most definitely awake.

“Astrals kid, you scared the shit out of me,” he huffed, before straightening sharply, “hey wait, you’re actually talkin’ now?”

“Sor’y,” Prompto mumbled, what he assumed was a shoulder hunching beneath the fabric.

“No no it’s-” Gladio swallowed, “-that’s good. Do you uh- do you know who I am?”

Part of the handkerchief shook, which he assumed meant he was shaking his head. Whether it was side to side or up and down though, he couldn’t tell.

“The Prince?”

That would be a no then. 

“Uh, not quite Tin- Prompto, but I’m a… I’m a friend of Noct’s, I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

_ Again _ , he tacked on silently.

“‘K ,” Prompto replied, already soft voice muffled by the folds of fabric he was buried in, “then that’s- that’s good.”

Gladio swallowed again, tighter, shifting awkwardly but stilling instantly when the simple movement jostled the kid. His lips felt dry, drier than chalk as the silence dragged on, a question he didn’t know if he wanted answered lodged in his throat. But Amicitia’s weren’t known for their cowardice.

“Do you recognise me, Prompto?”

Prompto snuffled, the bundle wriggling, handkerchiefs slipping just a little lower.

“‘M kinda jus’ hoping this is all a dream,” he croaked. 

Gladio sucked in a slow breath, wishing Ignis or Noct were still here. He was way out of his depth, not to mention the fact that he was probably the last person the little guy would ever want to be so vulnerable around. Astrals, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere near someone so gigantic on instinct, but the fact that that someone had actively attempted to capture him and gotten as far as actually getting his hands on him… yeah he didn’t exactly see that being forgiven any time soon. Nor did he expect it.

“Well, dream or not, the fact that you’re talkin’ is a real good sign I’d say,” he said, deciding that not letting the little guy dwell on his memories of him was probably for the best, Ignis had ordered him not to stress him out after all, “your strength’s comin’ back.”

“‘M fine,” Prompto grumbled, latching right on to the change of subject, to his relief. Thank the Astrals, the last thing he needed was the kid having another tiny panic attack-

“Noc’ wanted me to meet you,” Prompto slurred, “but I said no.”

Gladio felt himself physically deflate, hot shame prickling at the back of his neck. ‘ _ So much for that then _ ’.

“Were you scared of me?” He didn’t know why he asked. He already knew the answer.

“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled, and Gladio thought he might have caught a glimpse of a tiny, brilliant blue eye staring blankly up at him, shadowed and heavy-lidded, “but I’m use’ to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Bein’ scared.”

Gladio swallowed tightly, forcing his voice to remain soft. “But you’re not scared of Noct anymore, are ya? What makes you think you’ve always gotta be afraid of Iggy and me as well?”

Prompto whined, brow furrowing in pain as he buried another round of haggard coughs in the fabric. He sniffled as it passed, then stilled. Gladio leaned back against the pillows with a sigh, not expecting the kid to have fallen asleep again so soon-

“Not suppos’d to…”

He almost jumped at the barely there words, but found himself leaning eagerly forward again, reminding himself not to loom. “Not supposed to what?”

“...not suppos’d to wanna be friends with humans.”

“But you do want to, don’t ya?” Gladio found himself pressing, needing to know that the tiny boy wanted this as much as Noctis clearly did, “and Noct wants to as well, says he doesn’t care how small you are.”

Prompto didn’t respond for a long moment, and he had only just begun to resign himself once again to the belief that he had been dragged back into the realm of sleep when he spoke again, his soft, raw voice trembling with something vulnerable.  _ Childlike _ .

“Y-yeah?” Prompto said, curled so tight beneath the deep purple of Ignis’ handkerchief that all he could make out of him was a flicker of bright blonde, “I don’t wanna be alone again…”

The sharp sound of a shuddery inhale only just reached his ears.  _ Oh no _ .

“You don’t have to be,” Gladio said on instinct, knowing this sort of emotional thing was more Iggy’s area of expertise. But Ignis wasn’t here right now, so instead he reached for the wealth of experience he had, not as a Shield in training, but as an older brother. “Hey, hey, it’s alright little gu- Prompto, no one’s gonna leave you on your own again, alright? Not if you don’t want to.”

Prompto sniffled. “Really?” 

“Yeah kid,” he murmured, more sure, “we’re not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to, and that includes kicking you out or anything, Noct’s orders.”

“Noc’?” Prompto mumbled, the bundle squirming about again until a little head poked shyly out from one of the folds like a mouse from a hole, eyes murky with quickly mounting exhaustion, “‘s he back yet?”

Gladio frowned, fingers twitching to reach out and feel his temperature, only to catch himself and pull back.  _ Gods he would probably break him if he did that _ .

“He came in and saw you earlier, don’t you remember?”

Prompto somehow managed to look even tinier as he slumped, practically swimming in an ocean of deep violet.

“No... maybe? Can’ really remem’er,” - he blinked up at him slowly, but Gladio got the impression he wasn’t really seeing him at all, even so, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from every minute movement he made, it was too surreal, “-did Noc’ really say tha’?”

Gladio blinked, belatedly realising he had been staring. “Did he say what?”

“Tha’ no one would- would do anythin’ I didn’t want?”

“Sure did, Blondie-” and he  _ really  _ had to resist the urge to try and ruffle his hair then, “-and we all gotta follow orders from Prince Charmless so, no one’s gonna touch ya while any of us are around.”

“Or kick me out?”

“Or kick you out, I mean honestly we were probably never gonna do that in the first place so, y’know, you really shouldn’t worry so much.”

‘Gods what a stupid fucking thing to say,’ he mentally berated himself immediately. Of course the little guy should be worried, he had every right, who fucking wouldn’t being surrounded by giants that could and would squish you like a bug? Hell, he had almost been the not-so-proud holder of that title, and the memory now filled him with nothing but a nauseating guilt.

“Oh,” Prompto said, cutting his silent rant off before it could truly get off the ground, a dizzy little smile pulling at his lips, “tha’s nice o’ you, thank you, then.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Gladio said faintly, not really certain how to respond. The kid was flagging fast, already heavy-lidded little eyes rapidly growing darker yet, for once, he found he didn’t have the willpower to try and coax any further conversation out of the clearly exhausted Borrower, as much as his curiosity urged him to, almost as much as it must have been plaguing Ignis and Noct no doubt. It seemed like the more they learned about the kid the more questions they had. But, at least for himself, the more he heard the more he caught glimpses of the shadows that haunted the edges of the boy’s story. Things that didn’t add up, things that were left far too purposefully blank, particularly about Prompto’s past, what family he had come from.  _ Why the hell was a kid so young already all alone? _ And now, there was something else he could feel, worming and flickering deep within his chest like a livewire. He recognised it immediately for what it was, because it was exactly the same fearsome curl he felt for Iris, less often now than when she had been younger but ever present: the undeniable urge to protect those he cared for.

‘Oh no,’ Gladio thought, watching the tiny boy give a pretty impressive yawn for someone so small, snuffling sleepily once more as he snuggled back down into the blankets, clearly intent on drifting back to sleep. And Gladio was pretty intent on letting him, at least until some of Ignis’ instructions finally filtered back into his head.

“Hey kid, don’t go back to sleep just yet, I gotta give you something to eat.”

Prompto groaned, wriggling back down amongst his blankets, hiding his face again. “‘M not hungry.”

“Sorry Tiny, Nurse Iggy’s orders,” Gladio huffed, smiling a little when the blonde simply disappeared beneath the folds of fabric again, reminding him starkly of Iris when she had been a bit younger and hadn’t wanted to get up for school, “you gotta eat to keep your strength up.”

That earned him a tiny whine.

“Yeah yeah yeah, quit ya bellyachin’,” he answered absently, voice light as he slipped from the bed, crossing to the old, ornate desk to retrieve the thermos full of soup. He popped the top to take an inquisitive sniff, instantly feeling his mouth begin to water, “jeez Tiny, I’m jealous, might just have to steal a little of this from ya.”

“You most certainly will not.”

Gladio jumped, fingers tightening just in time to not drop the thermos and ensure Prompto didn’t end up getting any of it. He whirled around, an innocent grin slipping across his face, to meet Ignis’ flat expression head on. 

“Back so soon Igs?” He greeted, grin widening at the Advisor’s cocked eyebrow. There was a distinct lack of moody Prince tailing him, and the confusion must have shown on his face. 

“His Majesty wished to have a final word with Noct but he shouldn’t be much longer, not if how anxious his Highness was to return throughout that entire meeting was anything to go off of.”

Gladio snorted. “Charmless was in a great mood then?”

Ignis barked a laugh. “I would say not only were the entire council aware of his displeasure, but everyone in the next three rooms over as well-” he adjusted his glasses in that particular way of his that spoke of mild to severe irritation, “-but in any case, how is our little patient doing? You haven’t accidentally rolled over on him yet I presume?”

“Ha ha ha,” Gladio snarked, stepping aside easily as Ignis brushed past towards the bed and following after him, only just remembering to snatch up the eyedropper from the desk on the way, “he mostly just slept, but he’s awake right now actually, or at least he was, had a decent little chat with him, even got a little emotional on me.”

Ignis turned back to him, startled. “Really?” A subtle pause. Barely even noticeable. “That is excellent news, a good sign that his strength is returning...”

Gladio, arched an eyebrow, waiting. Ignis slid smoothly alongside the opposite edge of the bed, delicately tugging at the handkerchiefs to check on the tiny boy, now fast asleep and snoring once more, before carefully rearranging them, tucking the edges gently back around his little body. Ignis was damn good at hiding things, always had been, it was pretty much part of the job description. He was good, but not good enough to hide most things from him, not after all this time. He knew where to look to find the tells, the cracks in an otherwise seamless mask of calm. The barely there tension in his brow. The subtle stutter of uncertainty to his movements. Well, even after all this time, not even Ignis could ever completely rid himself of bouts of irrational emotion, not to say he didn’t try.

Gladio huffed, shaking his head at the almost  _ childish _ way the Advisor was inadvertently holding himself, so,  _ so _ close to petulant, something that was just about a pout on his curving lips, not even realising he was showing more emotion around him.

“Let me guess,” he said, gaze flicking down as he idly scuffed his thumb up the silver flank of the thermos, “why me instead of you, right?”

A long, silent pause. Then-

“I beg your pardon?”

And yep, there it was. The sting of indignation in his friend’s normally still, ever-controlled voice that completely gave him away. Gladio looked up, meeting Ignis’ cold look with barely so much as a flinch.

“You,” he said simply, “you’re wonderin’ why he spoke to me first instead of you, when you’ve been the one workin’ out all the ways to actually help him and shit.”

Ignis scoffed, straightening up and pinning him with the full weight of his incensed expression. “Don’t be ridiculous, Gladiolus-” using his full name, another tell, “-I could care less  _ who _ Prompto speaks to, indeed it is a miracle he is speaking at all-”

“Come on Igs, it’s me.”

Ignis glowered, expression positively thunderous. And Gladio might have shrunk back from that… if the corner of his lip wasn’t twitching in that oddly specific way of his. Ignis’ shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the floor.

“Am I truly that transparent?”

Gladio snorted, something familiar and fond filling his chest. Iggy was always so poised and perfect, it was nice, in a sense, seeing the normally impenetrable young man was still very much victim to normal, human emotions from time to time.

“Only to me, and the Princess when he actually bothers to look.”

“Personality flaw,” Ignis muttered, still looking away. Gladio rolled his eyes, gently bumping him with his shoulder, holding out the thermos and the eyedropper as a peace offering.

“Or, you’re just feelin’ normal, stupid human emotions, quit kickin’ yourself about it-” Ignis glanced up, carefully taking the items from him and settling gently on the bed, careful not to disturb Prompto’s pillow, “-you’re allowed to be irrational sometimes, ‘specially about the little guy.”

“He has a name,” Ignis huffed weakly, but there was a tiny pull to the corner of his lips that spoke of a smile.

“Yeah yeah, so Charmless keeps sayin’,” Gladio huffed, content that he had gotten his point across well enough, “he’s kinda cute honestly, weirdly endearing in a childish sort of way, makes me feel like shit for how I acted back at Noct’s though.”

“Oh, only just now is it?” Ignis muttered, carefully tilting the opened thermos and filling the eyedropper with a clear, golden broth. The smell was incredible when it wafted to his nose.

“Nah, had my fair share of regret over that mess already, don’t you worry.”

“Hmm,” Ignis hummed, screwing the lid back on to the flask and placing it on the bedside table, plucking a tissue from the nearby box as he twisted to lean back over the blissfully snoring Borrower, “well it’s at least gratifying to know that some sense can eventually rattle into that thick skull of yours.”

“Oi-”

“Prompto? Shh darling, I know, I’m so sorry to keep waking you like this, can you drink a little of this for me dear? That’s it-”

Gladio sighed, shuffling off to let Ignis tend to the tiny blonde in relative peace, unable to resist a small smile at the string of endearments and gentle praises as Prompto apparently took some of the soup. An admittedly odd yet somehow charming habit that he had only glimpsed on a few rare occasions when Noct had been sick or hurt, and once towards himself, on the one night he had spent in the hospital after receiving the scar across his eye. It seemed to only be something he did towards those he truly cared for.

Recalling his abandoned book, he changed direction and retrieved it from the empty side of the bed, before drifting over to flop on to one of the couches with a heavy huff. It felt strange now, not having that wheezing little presence beside him, enough to make his gut clench a little with the urge to get right back up and check in again. He pushed it aside, opening back to his marked page and beginning to read the exact same passage over and over again, quietly listening as Ignis cooed and comforted behind him, waiting for their Prince to rejoin them once more.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When he woke again he wished he hadn’t.

Prompto woke to a feeling like a hook had just been thrust down his throat and  _ yanked _ . He was gasping, wheezing and guttering, yet he couldn’t get air into his lungs fast enough. Or at all.

“Prom?”

He hacked, throat straining around a phantom blockage, white hot pain searing the abused flesh with every ragged cough that ripped from his lips.

“Prompto? Shit, shit, it’s ok-”

He could feel tears streaming down his cheeks and as the the next round of coughs ripped through him, hunching his back and seizing his chest in a vice grip, he wasn’t sure if he was going to vomit or actually choke up a lung. The pain made him lean more towards the latter.

“Oh shit- Ignis! Ignis come here he’s-”

His head was filled with the thrum of his own heart, the wheeze and scrape of his lungs, brittle and shuddery like a draft through the walls in the dead of winter.

“-don’t know what happened-”

It hurt.  _ Fuck it hurt _ .

“-he was fine just a second ago!”

Something changed. The world was moving around him, or maybe he was moving. Warmth blanketed his sides, and something pressed at his back, pushing him gently into a more straightened position, rubbing soft circles there like his mother once had.

_ She’s gone, idiot _ .

“-that’s it Noct, keep him steady now, don’t let him writhe like that-”

_ Stop thinking about them _ .

“-I’m trying, I don’t wanna hurt him-”

_ They’re never coming back _ .

“It’s gonna be ok Prom-”

_ It won’t _ .

“Shh, shh darling, you’re alright-” something cool and hard was pressed to his lips and moments later the sweet relief of fresh water filled his mouth, seeping down his burning throat in soothing waves- “that’s it, just take it slow.”

The coolness ebbed the pain, but his throat still burned, spasming with the urge to cough and hack. As though sensing it, the hard presence at his lips pulled away, just in time for him to lurch forward and choke up half of it. It ran down his chin in cold, slimy drops, quickly turning acrid as it spilled into the dampness already painting his cheeks. 

_ What does it matter? _

Almost as quickly, that warm, steady presence returned to rubbing tiny circles between his shoulders, a softness delicately pressing at his skin, sapping away the wetness and the sting of salt.

_ You’re on your own now. _

“Hush now, Prompto, it’s ok, it’s all ok now.”

_ It’s not it’s not it’s not- _

Prompto felt his throat stutter and clench a few times more, the slick remnants of rattling coughs dripping from his lips before, at last, settling once again as the thick, stinging presence in the back of his throat.

The exhaustion hit him all at once like a punch square to the gut, a leaden weight pooling in his limbs until he could barely so much as raise a hand to pull up the blanket again.

_ It’s so cold. _

All his fumbling and croaky whines must have done something though, for a moment later the edge of the blanket shifted to tuck beneath his chin and he wasted no time burying his head beneath it. 

_ Everything hurts _ .

The harsh bite of the light swallowed up once more, before he even realised it the thick, heavy tug of exhaustion was pulling him under, sucking him headfirst back into nothingness.

“-nything about any potential family?”

“He doesn’t really talk about it.”

_ Noct? _

“I think- I think they must be dead.”

Prompto wished he was.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


The night was still and peaceful, save for the soft hiss and rattle of Prompto’s tiny lungs on the pillow beside him.

For once, Noctis couldn’t sleep.

He blinked, and it stung. He was tired, in more ways than one, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. The curtains were thrown wide, letting the ever-present light of the sprawling city bathe the room in a soft, warm tide. Far in the distance, the glassy, shimmering veil of the wall rippled and shone, crystalline in the moon’s pale light, but Noctis barely spared the view a glance. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the little bundle on the pillow beside him. Ignis had spirited away the two handkerchiefs he had donated to his little friend, muttering something about ensuring he had as clean a place to rest as possible, replacing them with the now thoroughly washed and fabric softened bandana Prompto had seemingly fallen in love with.

The little pile rose and fell in minute flutters, easily missed in the dim glow if he weren’t so keenly watching for it, shuddering and shaking with every rattling exhale from the tiny body beneath. And… Noctis couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t look away, and he knew why, knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t stop the sour, terrible thought coming again and again… that that gentle rise and fall would finally stop if he took his eye off of him.

He knew how stupid it was, childish really. Prompto was getting the best care that they could give, Ignis alone had taken to the task with such focus and diligence that he had caught him more than once now crooning those awful, sappy pet names and endearments he always used whenever someone he truly cared for was unwell. Usually, they were directed at Noctis himself, though only when Ignis had thought he was asleep. He had never really had the heart to point out how dumb they all sounded. Not when a buried part of him couldn’t help but revel in the blatant show of affection.

This was different though. Ignis didn’t truly  _ know _ Prompto, and hell, maybe he was getting ahead of himself in thinking that he himself did, but every one of those softly murmured sweet nothings did more to settle the swirling anxiety inside of him than they ever had to ebb the pain of illness and gnaw of his old wounds. It was how he knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Ignis cared, that he would give just as much as him to see Prompto recover again. Not that he hadn’t already known, the bitterness in his Advisor’s voice whenever they so much as mentioned the incident in the apartment, the shame and regret that flashed behind his glasses every time. Of course he had already known, but seeing it was different, somehow more concrete, visceral, the tenderness and… gratitude Ignis held practically emanating from him whenever his focus fell on the sickly boy. 

And then there was Gladio. Well, if he was honest with himself, Gladio had surprised him the most. Ignis, despite all of his usual poise, turned shockingly soft around Prompto. He knew Specs held a ton of regrets for what had happened back at the apartment, but what he hadn’t stopped to consider was that Gladio may well have held just as much, perhaps even more. And it didn’t truly hit him until he returned to his room in time to catch the behemoth of a man quietly reading one of his god awful romance novels to the snoring little bundle settled beside him on the bed. He had elected to quietly retreat, edging away from the door just enough so that the noise of his steps gave the impression that he was just coming up to the door, and sure enough the room was silent when he entered properly.

He supposed, in hindsight, Gladio may well have felt the most guilty out of all of them (though he somehow doubted it with how much Ignis had been kicking himself over everything). Afterall, Gladio had been the only one out of all of them to actually make physical contact with Prompto, albeit in a horrendous way. Whatever Gladio’s initial thoughts had been of a tiny person secretly living in his house, it was clear from the guilt that all but haunted the shadows of his eyes that the experience of actually, physically  _ capturing _ Prompto hadn’t sat well with him in the long run. Not that he could blame him, his own chest had lurched sickeningly that first time Prompto had let him pick him up, the solid, warm weight of his tiny body suddenly making the reality of the situation dawn like a harsh summer sunrise. It was weird to think about, how prior to that he truly just hadn’t been able to comprehend how  _ delicate _ and  _ vulnerable _ the little Borrower was. He had always known he would have to be gentle of course, you couldn’t really interact with anything that small without being careful, but he hadn’t been prepared for the reality of holding another thinking, feeling person’s entire life in his hand. As soon as that small weight had settled in his palm, he suddenly felt he had something of a fraction of an understanding of Prompto’s terror towards humans. Because suddenly, he hadn’t been a human, he had been something else, something monstrous and terrible, cradling something so horrifically breakable.

All of those spiraling thoughts finally lead him to the main thing he had noticed. Where he and Ignis hadn’t really hesitated to carefully shift or maneuver the tiny boy when they needed to check up on him, give him some liquids or where it was otherwise needed, Gladio seemed to shy away from touching Prompto entirely. And he wasn’t stupid, he was pretty sure he knew why. Unlike Ignis, Gladio didn’t really bother to try and mask his body language, he saw the way he would catch himself staring at Prompto, brows knitted together with something between concern and trepidation, the emotions so utterly out of place on his Shield’s face it was almost laughable. Mostly though, it was in the hands. Around Prompto, Gladio almost seemed to be trying to hide them, wringing them in his lap, clasping them around the edges of a book, pressing his fingers between his thighs like a particularly enormous child. Anything to keep his hands away from the slumbering little Borrower.

He was worried, Noctis realised, a little late perhaps, but it was a look he had almost never seen Gladio wear, worried about how Prompto would react to all of this when he finally woke properly (and he  _ would _ wake properly again).

Not that he could say he was much better, in fact he was almost certain he felt worse, every spare moment his mind would wander gripped by the fear of how Prompto was going to react to his… betrayal. Since there truly was no other word for it. Gods he just hoped that Prompto would listen to him, would even give him the chance to explain himself. But why would he? He had broken his promise. Revealed him to not only Ignis but Gladio too, the two people that had terrified him above all others. What the hell kind of a friend did that make him? If he couldn’t even be trusted to uphold a single promise?

_ Oh gods, Prompto was never going to forgive him. He was going to lose his first truly made friend alread- _

“N’ct?”

It was so soft, almost non-existent, he almost believed he had imagined it, yet he still jumped. Slowly, as though he were scared of spooking a wild bird, he tilted his head just a fraction more towards the opposite pillow, on the off chance that his exhausted brain wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“N’ct?” Prompto croaked again. Barely a word. Barely even a breath.

“Yeah bud?” Noctis answered immediately, keeping his voice soft, the hand closest to him raising before he thought better of it and resettled it on the blankets beneath the Borrower’s pillow, “I’m still here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Prompto didn’t reply immediately, but the fabric of the bandana shook a little more, and he got the distinct impression that he was blearily nodding. He was so small, so breakable lying in a bed that all but drowned him. He felt the tug at the back of his brain, the cold, distant memories of a starchy hospital bed and the uncomfortable leather padding of a creaking wheelchair.

“Th’nk you,” Prompto muttered, the exhaustion clear in his voice. Noctis’ frown deepened, blinking as he snapped back into the dim gloom of his bedroom, it sounded like it was taking everything Prompto had left just to get the words out. He knew he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t encourage him to waste more energy trying to talk to him, trying to stay awake, but he couldn’t help himself. He had always been prone to selfishness, a brattiness that spoke of a life spent barely having wanted for anything, but more than anything now, he just wanted to talk with his new friend again, and so, he couldn’t resist.

“What for?”

Another long moment. The bundle shifted some more, until a frazzled, droopy mop of blonde hair poked out, followed by a pale little face and two tiny, hazy eyes, staring back at him blankly.

“For stayin’ with me,” Prompto slurred softly, and he had to strain to hear as he stuttered on, “‘s nice, not bein’ alone when ‘m sick.” 

Noctis felt his jaw tighten, brow furrowing against his pillow, straining to bite down on the urge to pry. “It’s alright Prom, we’re not gonna leave you, go back to sleep.”

Prompto gave a small grunt, face twisting with something like confusion, but it faded almost as soon as it had come. Noctis hesitated, wetting his lips.

“Prom, you-” He stopped.

Prompto made a small ‘mh?’ noise, as though the sound alone could blindly grope back for his voice with invisible little hands. 

“You-” in his head, he started again, stopped, rethought it, “-you just- you gotta get better alright? And soon.”

“‘M fine.”

“...yeah bud, you will be.” 

Prompto muttered something he couldn’t make out in reply, twisting his face away into the soft fabric and curling up tight, and even in the pale light with the bad angle he could see his brow scrunched with discomfort. Slowly, hesitantly, he slid his hand across the sheets, over the suddenly immense distance between them, up the mountainside of the pillow Prompto shivered upon and, ever so carefully, rested his hand over top of his tense little body. He kept his touch feather-light, uncertain and testing, waiting for even the barest sign of the boy’s discomfort. 

Prompto wriggled gingerly beneath his palm, uncurling slightly, the softest breath leaving his raw lips. He squirmed a little more, and Noctis held his breath, tensed to remove himself as quickly as possible. A tiny hand emerged from beneath the folds of fabric, slipping and fumbling blindly over the creases in the pillow, until an ember-warm palm found him, miniscule fingers pressing against the delicate skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“-nks N’ct,” Prompto sighed, before the rattle of his breaths eased out into those tiny, sickly snores of his.

Noct watched the fluttering rise and fall of his little chest steady just a fraction, the furrow of his brow smoothing, that tiny bird heartbeat quivering constantly under his fingers. Prompto’s hand remained, pressed warmly to his own massive one. Finally, he released the breath he had been holding in a soft, awed huff.

“Thanks Prom,” he murmured back, carefully adjusting the hand blanketing him so his thumb was curled just a little more around him, his digits a little more spaced out, arched so he wouldn’t accidentally crush him, and finally let his eyes drift closed. Sleep didn’t come to claim him quickly, rather it swept in inevitably, like an ocean tide, gently tugging him down to the endless thrum of a giant city mingling with the beating of a miniscule heart.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


When Prompto woke again everything was, at last, warm, the world soft and buttery, the colour of honey and the last rays of an afternoon sun. 

When he blinked his eyes tentatively open, he could see clearly for the first time in what felt like an eon. Finally his nose and head weren’t stuffed with cotton and he heaved what might have been the biggest sigh of his life in sheer relief. The air smelt of nutmeg and ginger and the sharp deodorant from Noct’s bathroom, and gods it all smelled so sweet. Humming contently, Prompto pulled the silky soft blanket closer around him and snuggled down into the gently shifting warmth beneath him, the steady, rhythmic drum of a colossal heartbeat easing him right back down towards a blissful darkness.

_ Wait _ .

Prompto’s eyes shot back open and he lurched up on his elbow with a sharp inhale. The sight of what, or rather who, he was snoring on made his blood run cold. Ignis. Ignis was lain out beneath him, titanic body stretching out all around him, one giant arm tucked behind his head while the other- Prompto’s gaze slid down the length of it, biting down on a noise of distress when he found that huge hand rested just behind him, barely centimeters from his own feet. The ‘floor’ shifted beneath him, rising gently, evenly, and with a fresh shot of horror, he finally realised exactly where he was lying. The human’s enormous heart pounded strongly beneath the hard cage of his ribs, thrumming up through his arms and deep into the miniscule cavity of his own chest. Steady and slow, mirrored in the pace of his breaths, constant with the rhythms of sleep. 

Prompto swallowed tightly, gaze darting back to Ignis’ face, lax with slumber, his glasses twisted crooked where he had turned his face and mushed it against the arm of a familiar looking couch. Reassured that the bean was at least out of it for now, he snapped his head back around, ignoring the pounding that instantly took root in the front of his brain, trying to make sense of where he was and, more importantly, how he could possibly escape. With a jolt, all the pieces fell into place inside his sluggish brain. Noct’s room. On the couch. On Ignis’ chest.

_ Noctis must have told Ignis about him _ .

Prompto shuddered in barely repressed horror, a numbness spreading throughout all of his limbs.  _ He had trusted him _ . He had to move, he had to find a way out of here. He scanned around himself again feverishly, straining to push through the heavy tug of sickly fatigue, his panic only growing when he found no clear way down to the ground.  _ But he had trusted him _ . A hand shot to his belt, only to find his grappling hook and pin were long gone, and the numbness only spread, turning his tongue to lead in his mouth. Ignis’ breath hitched lightly, chest lurching softly beneath him as he sighed in his sleep. Prompto felt his heart just about stop, but the human did little more than shift a little, turning his head more into the fabric of the couch, glasses growing even more skewed. 

Prompto swallowed again, but it felt like nothing went down. Slowly, gaze never straying from Ignis’ serene face, he began to back himself up on all fours, where to he wasn’t even sure yet, twitching with nerves and grimacing at the slight give to the ‘floor’, terribly certain that the movements of his meagre weight would wake him any second now. His heart hammered in his ears as he struggled to keep his scratchy breaths quiet, his nose once again too stuffed to breathe through, throat burning with the effort. Blindly, still refusing to tear his gaze away, entire focus trained on even the faintest sign of alertness in the human, he fumbled for the edge of the blanket he was all but swimming under. The bandana Noct had given him, he idly realised.  _ Worthless now _ . But it smelt like lavender and clean, sharp soap, and was so, so soft. He almost wanted to just curl up again and let sleep take him, hope and pray that this was all just a bad dream.  _ That Noctis hadn’t done this to him _ -

The giant hand rested below him twitched, huge fingers curling. Prompto yelped, desperately trying to shove it back down his throat the second it left, but only succeeded in choking on it, breaking off in a harsh coughing fit.

Ignis stirred instantly, snuffling awake with a small lurch, the hand beneath his head shooting up to catch and right his glasses when they slipped from his face. He seemed to rein himself back quickly, apparently very aware of the tiny body still sprawled out atop his chest. Out of the corner of his watery eye, he only just made out the blurry outline of that enormous hand lifting from behind him. He tried to scramble forward on instinct, but the spasms in his chest sent pain arching through his body, and he did little more than jerk forward, losing his already uncertain footing and flopping back down against the human’s warm shirt. He coughed haggardly into his arm, whimpering as every convulsion raked his poor, abused throat with red hot thorns. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Prompto, it’s alright,” a huge, lilting,  _ familiar _ voice said, that giant hand shifting further to cup loosely around him, blanketing him in another layer of warmth and sending violent shivers down his spine, “it’ll pass, it’ll pass little one.”

The sheer weight and rumble of the human’s voice, not even going into the very real weight of the hand over top of him, instinctively made him want to hide, wishing he could just slip completely back beneath the blanket and disappear entirely. Prompto whined, pressing his face into the fabric to hide the tears he could feel stinging at the corners of his eyes, spilling slow, hot streaks down his cheeks. He swallowed shakily, and that hurt too, but it was better than the coughing. He knew, realistically, that he couldn’t hide from this forever, but he had no idea what to do, aside from perhaps just giving in to his fate. The bean’s words spiralled in his tired brain, until something finally ‘thunked’ into place. Ignis’ digits shifted ever so gently over him, rubbing his back softly, and only the state of his throat prevented him from screaming.

“You know my name,” Prompto rasped, trying not to flinch away, not wanting to anger his captor, “h-how do you know my name?”

The rubbing stopped. Prompto bit his lip, not brave enough to pull his face away from the fabric to see his reaction. He wasn’t even sure why he had asked. He already knew the answer. Knew who was to blame.

“Your fever’s broken,” Ignis’ breathed, shifting a little more beneath him, and the genuine relief thick in his voice actually gave his panic pause, “oh thank the gods.”

“Fever?” Prompto mumbled, still fervently hoping the fabric would swallow him up.

“You’ve been sick little one,” Ignis said gently, giant fingers actually pulling away some, what he could glimpse of those long digits seeming to hover around him, not quite touching him anymore, almost uncertain, “very sick, we were worried you wouldn’t-”

He cut himself off but Prompto got the message, shuddering in horror that his “little cold” could have gotten so bad. But that still didn’t- couldn’t explain why he was here. Alone. With Ignis.  _ Oh gods he actually yelled at this human once he was so dead _ .

“He told you,” he choked out, unable to keep the betrayal out of his voice. He could feel his shoulders trembling, hoping to the gods that it was hidden beneath the bandana. Noctis had given him up to another human. Like a broken toy. Like a pet he didn’t find amusing anymore…

“He had no other choice, Prompto, he was scared, he was so scared that you weren’t recovering,” Ignis explained, a firmness to his voice that all but forced his tired brain to pay attention, not that he could possibly focus on anything else right now, “Noctis revealed you to me two days ago, you’ve been so out of it whenever you woke that you clearly don’t remember any of it.”

“Two days?” Prompto gasped, lurching upwards too far, inadvertently freeing his face and instantly regretting it when the movement and the shock of light made his head spin. But it hardly mattered, because the second his eyes raised and his vision cleared enough, there was nothing he could do to stop his gaze being tugged irrevocably up, up,  _ up _ , until he made perfect eye contact with Ignis. A new wave of terror crashed down over his head, sliding like ice down the back of his neck all the way to his feet as the sheer intelligence in those brilliant green eyes burned into his own, the unfettered fascination in that clever gaze almost enough to make him vomit.

Like a switch being flicked, that curiosity faltered, replaced with the downward twitches of concern, to finally settle on worried realisation. Prompto could feel his arms shaking, his vision beginning to blur with the tears he idly realised were still pricking at the corners of his eyes.  _ It was all suddenly real, far too real _ . The warmth beating down from the hand still suffocatingly curled too close around him, boiling up from the immense body he sat upon like a barely contained furnace. The pounding of an immense heart, the gust of huge breaths, in and out, the thunderous rumble of accented words.  _ And those eyes _ . 

“Prompto-” 

_ Gods he couldn’t help but tremble under a gaze like that. _

“Prompto, darling, I need you to breathe for me-”

_ Far too clever. Far too cunning. A Borrower’s worst nightmare. _

“Prompto,” Ignis said, so gentle it was but the barest vibration through his body, “please take a deep breath-”

_ He was so- _

“-I’m not going to hurt you.”

Prompto sucked in a sharp, stinging lungful of air, choking and coughing as it burned the whole way down. He shakily pushed himself further up on his arms, stifling his hacking into the soft, clean scent of the bandana. When he had nothing left to give, he sucked in another, finding it marginally better than the last.

“That’s it,” Ignis cooed, somehow making it sound genuinely heartfelt rather than what he could only imagine it had to be. The same tone with which a man soothed an ailing pet, or something equally as beneath him. He swallowed tightly, wincing at the sting, wishing he was anywhere but here. 

“Prompto?” Ignis called softly, “are you alright? Can you tell me how you feel?”

“Bad,” Prompto heard himself answer, straining to keep his eyes down and away from the human’s unrelenting gaze, yet the weight of it still pressed on him like a physical force and his lips were moving again before he could even think twice, “scared.”

The titanic chest jerked lightly beneath him, a small, yet deafening to him, gust of air passing the human’s lips. Slowly, as though afraid to spook him, the giant hand looming at his back pulled away, and Prompto tried not to feel too ashamed when he immediately felt like he could breathe a little easier.

“I’m truly sorry, little one,” Ignis murmured, the breathy whispers of guilt that whistled between the words grinding his brain to a halt, “I- I had not thought how distressing it would be for you to wake up like this-” a short, bitter snort, “-truly stupid of me in hindsight, how could all of this not be utterly terrifying for you? But I’m not going to hurt you, Prompto, I swear that on Noct’s life ( _ should that have even meant anything to him anymore? _ ) I can- I can put you down if you- ah not put you down in the sense of- I mean I can get you off of me if you- gods I am so sorry, I’m hardly making any sense am I?”

Prompto blinked and risked glancing up for the first time since the human had started, utterly bewildered as the normally poised and perfect man  _ fumbled _ over himself, trying to… apologise to him? Ignis cleared his throat stiffly, the sound rocking through his whole body.

“What I mean is, if you would like me to put you down and leave you alone, for lack of better wording, I can do that.”

“You’d- you’d let me go?” Prompto breathed, unable to believe it, “again?”

Ignis’ eyebrows twitched downwards in confusion. “Of course, why would I not?”

“Wouldn’t you be worried I’d escape?-” Prompto swallowed, glancing away again, trying to talk around the rapid pulse in his throat- “and he’d be mad, wouldn’t he? That you let me get away again.”

The confusion didn’t ebb, though now it was tinged with something almost disturbed. “Who?”

“...Noctis.”

Ignis’ eyes widened in realisation, before turning firm and Prompto was sure his heart was about to do a runner right out his mouth.

“Oh, oh darling, no” Ignis breathed, the hand that had pulled away to rest upon his thigh twitching back towards him, before seemingly thinking better of it and remaining where it was, “you’re not a prisoner here, Prompto, neither Noctis nor myself would ever keep you here against your will, if you wish to leave at any time then you need only say the word.”

“And if I said it now?” Prompto said warily. Ignis sighed gently.

“Then of course, I would not stop you,” he said, “although, I would also point out that you are still very unwell, while neither I nor anyone else will prevent you from leaving if you wish to, I also will not lie and say I wouldn’t prefer it if you stayed, at least until you have recovered a little more.”

“And then… you’d really let me go?”

“Prompto, will you please look me in the eye for a moment?” 

Prompto sucked in a deep, painful breath, and did as he was asked.

“If you never believe anything else I ever say, please believe me now when I tell you that we will never, ever keep you trapped here, or make you do anything that you have not completely consented to.”

“You did before…” Prompto whispered, unable to keep the words down his throat, a shudder rolling down his spine as Ignis shifted slightly beneath him again.

“Yes, yes we did,” Ignis said softly, and to Prompto’s surprise, the human mirrored his averted gaze in giant form, guilt flooding those jade green eyes of his, “and I have never regretted anything more in my life than I do the choices we made that day, to think what might have gone wrong- had you been hurt by our stupid actions-”

“I’m ok,” he said on instinct, worrying his lip and casting his eyes back downwards at the startled look the human pinned him with, stuttering over himself as he continued, “I mean- I wasn’t, I’m still kinda not- um, I mean-”

“I understand, Prompto,” Ignis interrupted gently, “but even if we didn’t physically harm you, thank the gods, everything we did was still far crueler than I ever should have allowed, we’ve given you absolutely no reason to trust us, and we hardly expect you to forgive us after what we put you through, we treated you so awfully...”

“But?” Prompto probed faintly, deciding against revealing the last remnants of his bruising, his sore throat and muscles that still echoed the nightmare of that day.

“But-” Ignis sighed softly, “-well, I must admit that Noct’s words have made me overly optimistic I suppose, but we had hoped that, if you could ever consider giving us another chance, we might one day be able to make up for what we’ve done...”

Something he had been ignoring, that had no less been rattling about like a loose screw in a socket, suddenly ‘clunked’ into place square in the front of his brain.

“Wait,” he blurted, “you’re not- you’re not mad at me?”

Ignis’ eyes flashed back up to meet his, utterly awash with shock and confusion.

“What?” Ignis breathed, “darling why- what on Eos would ever make you think that?”

Prompto grimaced, trying not to flinch as he shuffled awkwardly beneath his makeshift blanket, a hot flush burning up the back of his neck under such an openly concerned gaze.

“I- I yelled at you,” he mumbled, “in the living room, for offering me food, and after you let me go and everything, I just figured- thought you’d hate me for it, for being so rude- when you were just trying to help…”

“Oh, dear,” Ignis soothed, his hand lifted gently from his leg again and this time moved to hover questioningly beside him, leaving plenty of space in between, “no, Prompto, never, I was never mad at you, your reaction was perfectly understandable and completely valid after everything you had been through, hell, had I been in your place I don’t think I ever could have voiced my true thoughts nearly as politely as you did.”

Against almost everything his body and frazzled instincts were telling him, he choked on a watery laugh. Literally. A fresh round of hacking coughs tore through him, right up his spine and deep into his chest, burning up his throat until his eyes swam in new tears. Through the blurriness he could just make out the human’s expression twisting with worry, the looming form of his giant hand twitching a little closer. He flinched instinctively and immediately it halted.

Ignis cleared his throat, a huge, awkward swallow making his Adam's apple noticeably bob. “Prompto, will you let me pat your back? It has helped ease these coughing fits over the last couple of days-”

Prompto immediately moved to shake his head, that animal-fear squeezing his already taught lungs, but the coughing had him practically doubled over. 

“-I’ll be very gentle, and will stop as soon as the worst has passed.”

The next round of coughs ripped through him so hard he only narrowly stopped himself from vomiting all over the human’s soft, clean-white button up, and so, with every part of him shaking, he nodded his consent. Almost immediately, a somewhat familiar warm pressure pressed to his back, rubbing soft circles against his shoulders before lifting and patting there gently. Despite the delicacy of the movements, which he had to admit was fairly impressive for such a large bean, there was no mistaking the power behind it. Every tap was definitely gentle, but buried beneath it there was the undeniable promise of a strength that could snap him clean in two, or crush him to pulp with a single hit. The thought alone made him shudder, but Ignis had been right, the steady rubs and pats gave him something grounding to cling too, and he found himself slowly grasping control over his spasming throat once more, coughs slowing to small hacks and the familiar rattle of his shaky breaths. True to his word, Ignis immediately pulled his hand away once more and he was struck hard by the realisation that he immediately missed the warmth of his touch.

“Thank you,” he rasped, struggling to stay on his elbows a few moments more before finally giving up entirely, sagging back down against the softness of the human’s shirt with a pitiful groan.

“Most welcome, and please don’t strain yourself,” Ignis said gently, though there was a definite flicker of amusement there, a lengthy pause, and then, “may I feel your temperature?”

Prompto tensed, only for a moment before he let himself go limp again, and gave a tiny nod. He had already been slumbering on his chest, had already come to the unassailable realisation that he still felt way too shit to make a break for it even if he wanted to, and hell, had just had his back rubbed like an overly clingy child. Or perhaps something like a pet would be more accurate, the more treacherous part of his brain supplied. In any case, it wasn’t like he could do much worse at this point. He kept his eyes closed as he felt a huge fingertip press delicately against his forehead, his nose wrinkling as he realised just how sweaty and matted his hair was. After another moment, the gentle pressure pulled away.

“Much lower,” Ignis reported, clearly pleased, “your fever has definitely broken, though it will likely still take a week or so for you to fully recover.”

Prompto could only nod along, wondering if he could just sort of… slip off back to sleep and think about all of this again later.  _ He was so tired _ .

“Noct will be immensely relieved to hear you’ve woken up, properly this time.”

Prompto tensed right back up again, finally forcing himself up onto his knees as the sharp thrum of panic gripped him all over again. He pulled the bandana further around himself, like it would offer him any kind of protection, though mostly because even the tiny snatches of the colder air beyond made him shake like a leaf in a stiff winter breeze. 

“I d-don’t-” he started lamely, swallowing painfully before trying again, “he told you about me, he promised he wouldn’t...”

Ignis’ expression twisted and Prompto couldn’t help but flinch. “Please, don’t blame him, he broke his promise only because he feared he would lose you otherwise, and he would hate me telling you this, but I can say with certainty that he has been kicking himself over it ever since.”

Prompto let his eyes drift downwards. He knew it was likely the truth, it had to be. Noct he… he knew him better now, didn’t truly think he was afraid of the person himself anymore, yet there was still a part of him that always shied away from humans. He wondered if it would ever truly go away entirely. He somehow doubted it, and yet, he wanted to try. He wanted to trust them. He wanted to continue being Noct’s…  _ friend _ .

It was real, he told himself over and over again. It had to be, he had gone this long without anything bad happening. And if what Ignis was saying was true, if he really had been that sick for two whole days, so out of it that he barely remembered anything aside from snatches of noises and smells, he would have been at his mercy the entire time. A vague memory drifted through the front of his mind, more feelings than anything concrete. Small flickers of tastes and scents, a familiar, lilting voice murmuring soft comforts to him until sleep reclaimed him, over and over again. Prompto’s gaze snapped back upwards, wide eyes locking with larger, tired green ones.

“It was you,” he breathed. Ignis tilted his head, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“You were the one looking after me while I was sick…”

“Not alone, I assure you, but yes, I did tend you as best I could,” Ignis replied. 

“I’m so sorry,” Prompto blurted, mortification turning his mouth drier than chalk. Ignis’s eyebrows raised, then lowered again as concern befell his giant face.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Prompto, it was hardly your fault that you got sick, and I’m almost certain all the stress we put you under, and then the sudden change in your environment, didn’t help at all,” he said, voice still gentle, but with that firmness to it again that all but grabbed his rapidly flagging attention by the throat, only relinquishing its hold when a small, secretive smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “and besides, as far as patients go, you’ve quite easily been the most pleasant that I’ve cared for.”

“Wait, really?” Prompto squeaked, cheeks flushing hot.

“Easily,” Ignis repeated, before his voice dropped to a sly whisper, “Noctis is an absolute nightmare when he’s sick, getting him to eat his vegetables is hard enough but trying to get him to take medicine with any kind of taste? Truly an impossible task.”

Prompto couldn’t help it as a few stray giggles bubbled past his stinging throat and raw lips. It was just… a very Noctis thing to do.

“I kinda saw how much he hates eating veggies the last couple of days, or, uh, at least when I wasn’t sick, he even thought he could try to sneak all the ones he didn’t want to me, but I told him there’s no way I’d ever be able to eat that much, I mean, have you seen how tiny my stomach is?”

Ignis snorted, rolling his eyes even though his expression was entirely fond. “Yes,” he huffed, something almost teasing in his tone now, “and your tiny stomach gave me no shortage of anxiety whilst you were ill, I was always so worried I wasn’t giving you enough to eat or drink, yet equally terrified I would give you too much and hurt you further, thank the gods you would always let me know when you’d had enough.”

“Wait, you were feeding me and everything?” Prompto stammered, embarrassment flooding his cheeks and neck with a fresh tint of red.

Ignis simply nodded, rolling his shoulders against the dark arm of the couch, “of course, I had to ensure your body had the energy it needed to fend off the sickness and recover, and I did not dare give you any human medication for fear of doing more harm than good, so ensuring you were well-nourished was a top priority- hmm, apologies but, do you mind terribly if I sit up? I’m afraid I haven’t moved much all morning.”

“Oh, uh, y-yeah, hold on I can, um, I can climb off-”

“I do not mind offering a quicker option,” Ignis said gently, shifting his hand so it was almost cupped around him again, but stopped just short of actually touching him, letting him decide. Prompto hesitated for only a moment before leaning back into his fingers, giving a single nod.

Ignis smiled softly before carefully beginning to push himself up, gently tilting his hand to scoop him up as he went. Prompto shuffled himself around so he had most of the bandana still bundled around him, letting himself be all but cradled in the human’s large hand. 

“It was almost entirely the reason Noct brought you to me,” Ignis continued, and Prompto wondered if his confusion was still that clear on his face, “I’m afraid, given his rather sheltered upbringing, he didn’t really know what care you needed, and hell, I certainly am no expert either, especially in what care or medicine a Borrower such as yourself might need, but I’ve looked after Noctis almost his entire life, and I’ve seen him through plenty of illnesses.”

“But how did you- when I’m so… much smaller?” 

He knew he was barely making sense at this point, but Ignis didn’t seem to mind at all. He huffed a laugh, rolling his shoulders again and arching his back until it gave a loud pop, then swung his long legs off the edge of the cushions (gods above they were like a mile long), setting his bare feet on the dark rug below and leaning into the backrest with a sigh.

“I’ll admit, I had to get rather creative,” he explained, shifting the hand holding him so it wasn’t tucked so close to his chest, making it easier to maintain eye contact, though Prompto tried not to pout when he wasn’t able to leech as much of his body heat anymore, “I realised the first day that I couldn’t feed you or even give you fluids like I would Noct, so in the end I had to use an eyedropper to give you soup and water every couple of hours.”

“Oh my gods I’m so sorry,” Prompto blurted, utterly mortified, burying his face in his hands.

“You have nothing at all to be sorry for, Prompto,” Ignis repeated, firm yet gentle again, “in fact, while we’re on the subject, I wanted to apologise again, not only for everything back at the apartment of course, but for laying my hands on you while you were ill.”

Prompto blinked sluggishly, unease already prickling under his skin at that display of truly terrible wording. “Laying- laying your hands on me how?”

Ignis gaze danced away and Prompto was shocked to see an embarrassed flush softly rising to colour his smooth, high cheekbones. “We tried not to touch you unless it was absolutely necessary, but I had to move you when I was trying to give you fluids, lest you choke from the angle when you were lying down, and, well-” the flush grew more pronounced, “-we worked out that you were having trouble regulating your temperature, you would grow cold terrifyingly quickly, so a couple of times I did… place you on my chest, like right now, so I knew you would be warm.”

What felt like the last of the puzzle pieces finally fell into place and the dregs of Prompto’s confusion evaporated like a faint morning mist in spring.

“Oooh, dude, gods I thought you meant you’d done something like, actually bad to me while I was asleep,” Prompto huffed, a relieved little laugh bubbling past his lips as he carelessly tapped up his arms and over his middle, the old bruises from that day in the apartment barely more than a vague stiffness now, “no new bruises I don’t think, so honestly don’t worry about it!”

It was apparently Ignis’ turn to look completely blindsided, blinking in utter bewilderment at him, lips parted for a few dragging moments before he apparently refound his tongue.

“You-” he hesitated, licking his lips awkwardly, “-you’re not upset at all?”

Prompto tilted his head. “Why would I be? You took care of me while I was sick, and you actually managed to do it without hurting me at all, or at least I don’t feel sore or anything just yet, you didn’t have to do that…”

“Of course I did,” Ignis said in disbelief, “I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you-”

“Why though?” Prompto blurted.

Ignis stilled. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Wh-why do you care? Why do you care what happens to me? S’not like we’re friends or anything, I’m not a Prince or anyone important like Noct is, if it weren’t for that damn camera, you’d probably have never even known I ever existed, so why even waste your ti-”

“I would kindly ask that you don’t finish that sentence Prompto.”

Prompto froze, snapping wide, fearful eyes back up to the human’s face, trying to gauge his anger. But there was no anger in his expression, only a deep, awful distress.

“Sorry I- I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just-” the fingers surrounding him twitched, curling a little more around him,  _ protectively _ , he realised, “do you truly believe that your size or status makes you worth less than a human?”

“W-well-” Prompto stammered, years of living in hiding pushing the obvious answer past his lips, “yeah? I mean k-kind of? Most- most humans wouldn’t treat us like you do, I guess we’re just… kinda like pests to them, things to be gotten rid of...”

Ignis’ face did twist with anger this time, only for a brief second, but it still made his stomach lurch sickeningly before his expression was forced calm again.

“Not here,” he said firmly, the hand cradling him twitching just a little closer to his chest, “not to us, though I know that’s probably not how things appeared on our first meeting, was it?”

“Kind of an understatement,” Prompto pointed out weakly. Ignis sighed, reaching up with his free hand to push his glasses up and rub at his eyes.

“Yes, I’d say our first impression couldn’t have gone any bloody worse.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, hesitating a moment before quietly adding, “I guess that’s what second impressions are for.”

Ignis’ gaze snapped back to him, startled, and this time Prompto met it straight on, actually proud of himself when he managed not to hold it. All at once, the shock in his eyes melted away, replaced with something warm and… awed, that made his own gaze finally flick away, his cheeks burning.

“I would be honoured by the chance,” Ignis murmured. Prompto laughed faintly at how serious he sounded, like he was making some final promise or something, and risked a shy smile up at the human. His energy hadn’t really returned, but he didn’t exactly feel like he was about to drop dead any moment now either. In fact, he honestly felt… light, airy and almost untethered to the world around him, like all the weight of the stress that had been pressing down on him over the last couple of weeks had all at once been lifted, letting him finally breathe deep once more. He knew realistically that this was all far from over, that if he was truly going to stick with his word, let both Ignis and Noctis prove all that they had said, it was going to mean a lot of changes were coming. The thought thrilled and terrified him in equal measure, sending a shiver up his spine.

Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the keen eyes still upon him. “Prompto? Are you cold?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Prompto replied, proving it by shrugging off some of the folds of the bandana from his shoulders, he found it wasn’t so cold outside of it anymore, “just kind of… wondering I guess, uh, what exactly happens now?”

Ignis blinked, before that soft look settled in his eyes again.

“Well, it will be a little while yet before Noctis returns, I’m afraid all of his training hasn’t really been put on hold outside of all of this, despite how much he might have wished to stay by your side-” Prompto couldn’t help his flush growing hotter at that- “but was there anything at all you needed, perhaps you’re hungry? Noct did tell me you have a penchant for spicier dishes, in which case I have a fair few recipes you might like that I could-”

“N-no- it’s- I’m really, honestly fine thanks,” Prompto squeaked, overwhelmed (yet also oddly charmed) by all the fussing, “I don’t really think anything spicy would agree with me right now, and I’m really not that hungry anyway.”

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” Ignis muttered, that soft pink staining the long, elegant lines of his neck once more as he restlessly pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, even though he was pretty sure they hadn’t slipped at all, before clearing his throat pointedly, “if you would like to rest for a little while longer, I can take you back to your pillow if you’d prefer?”

As tempting as that sounded, even if the back of his neck rapidly flushed at the reminder that Noct had just  _ given _ him an entire pillow that was apparently just  _ his _ now, what he really wanted was-

“Um, a-actually...could I- could I maybe wash myself up before Noct gets back? I kinda feel like death.”

Ignis smiled, a tiny, amused snort leaving him, and this time, Prompto didn’t doubt the warmth he found in it.

“Of course, I already took the liberty of washing that spare shirt of yours-”

  
It wasn’t how he had wanted things to go, not by a long shot, and yet he couldn’t help the thought that, as Ignis went about preparing a bath in the sink that was somehow even  _ more _ luxurious than the one Noct had made him, maybe… maybe this was how it had always been meant to go.


End file.
